Recipe for Unexpectedness
by Amalgam000
Summary: A bit of reminiscing plus a touch of teasing plus a little profiling plus a grain of irony plus a fair amount of confusion equals a lot of unexpectedness. But at least they’re having a real conversation for once.


**Recipe for Unexpectedness**

Summary: A bit of reminiscing + a touch of teasing + a little profiling + a grain of irony + fair amount of confusion = a lot of unexpectedness. But at least they're having a real conversation for once.

Dislcaimer: This is for entertainment only, I don't own anything, you know the drill.

Rating: K (for everyone)

Author's notes: I'd like to thank everybody for the feedback on my first/previous story, I wasn't expecting it, so you guys made my day(s)! This one tips more towards romance, but is not quite there yet. I wish had a UST category (Unresolved sexual tension), because that would fit this story better than friendship or romance. It's kind of between the two! But anyways, I hope you like it!

Set late season 5 or after, no spoilers.

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**Recipe for Unexpectedness**

"Emily, you want to share a cab with us?" Morgan asked as he put on his coat and finished his drink in one gulp.

Emily knew she had to go home and get some sleep; she was exhausted after their last strenuous case and it was getting pretty late, but not just yet. So she smiled tiredly at Morgan, Garcia and Reid as she rested her temple against her knuckles and shook her head. "Nah, I'm not quite ready to go home just yet. But thanks."

"Hotch?"

"No I'm alright. You guys go ahead, I'll make sure Prentiss gets home safely."

Emily bit her tongue as she waved the trio goodbye and pretended to miss the suggestive eyebrow-raising that Garcia sent her way. She had recently got into her head that Emily and Hotch would make a cute couple, but Emily usually just ignored her teasing and went about her business as usual without giving it a second thought. Well, maybe she did give it a second thought sometimes, but definitely never a third.

Once they were out the door of the classy bar where the team had spent the last couple of hours, Emily turned her attention to their unit chief, seated on the stool next to hers, eyes riveted to his glass. First-rate scotch on the rocks. For some reason she couldn't picture him drinking anything else, because anything else would seem too… frivolous.

"Hotch, you don't have to stay because of me, I'll be fine."

His eyes met hers, briefly, before returning to his glass. "I know."

Emily smiled tiredly to herself. It was kind of funny to realize that not so long ago this kind of protective behavior would have infuriated her, but now that she'd worked with Hotch for a few years, she knew better than to ask what this strange behavior was about. After all, he _did_ know that she would be fine on her own. So what was the real reason for his staying so late in some random bar while his son was probably waiting for him at home? Taking another sip of her red wine, she decided to tempt fate, just in case he felt like talking.

"Everything okay?" She asked, eyeing him carefully.

He shrugged as if he was about to deny any concerns, but then seemed to think of something and frowned, turning more fully in her direction. "I'm sorry, did you want to be alone?"

Emily smiled as she absentmindedly swirled her wine around in her glass. "No! I'd like the company." She shrugged. "I guess I'm not ready to go home to an empty apartment quite yet. Some cases just stick in my head longer than others, you know?"

She thought she could detect a tiny smile as he seemed to relax a bit and mirrored her position, elbow resting against the counter top and his fingers absentmindedly rubbing his temple. She wondered what that gesture meant, beyond the fact that he clearly had something on his mind. She found herself amazed at how his face changed when his gaze softened, and it reminded her of another time. Another life, it seemed.

"Do you remember when we first met in my mother's office all those years ago?" He nodded and she could see curiosity in his expression now, so she went on. "It was only for a few minutes, but I remember thinking, 'wow, that man knows what he wants. And when he decides to go after it he probably gets it, every damn time.' I thought you were pretty scary."

He let out a small chuckle that showed his dimples, and Emily found herself thinking that he was a very sexy man when he laughed, but then immediately shook the thought away. Maybe it was time to stop drinking?

"Really? I remember thinking 'this young woman certainly knows what she _doesn't _want'. You were… quite defiant towards your mother. I never would have guessed that anything, let alone me, could ever scare you."

It was Emily's turn to chuckle, albeit a little self-consciously. While she was secretly flattered that he remembered meeting her, it was also embarrassing that he'd met her as a rebellious 20-year old who couldn't wait to get away from all the politics and hypocrisy that surrounded her mother's lifestyle. "Yes, well, hopefully I've grown out of my rebellious streak." She took a sip and sent him a teasing smile. "And I don't find you scary anymore."

"Well I certainly would hope not." He narrowed his eyes and observed her steadily for a few seconds, almost making her squirm.

"What?"

He smiled. "I don't think you have, though. Grown out of 'your rebellious streak', I mean."

Emily nodded, wondering at the fact that he, of all people, seemed to think that it was a good thing. After all, he'd been at the receiving end of some of her resistance in the past. "Then you'll understand why I'm dying to ask… why are you really here and not at home with your son?"

He sighed and returned his eyes to his glass. "He's staying with Haley's sister until tomorrow afternoon. I knew this case would take me away for a few days, so I planned it this way, but then…"

"Then we came back earlier than you'd anticipated?"

He nodded. "And by then it was already too late to call, and since he's probably sleeping comfortably right now… I guess, like you said, I wasn't ready to go home to an empty house just yet."

Emily raised her glass with an understanding smile and he imitated her, and they both clinked their glasses together before taking a sip.

As he turned pensive once more, his fingers absentmindedly wiping the condensation forming on his glass, Emily took the opportunity to observe him again. He looked tired, she noticed, and it wasn't the usual kind of tired. This was a weary-to-the-bone kind of tired, an exhaustion born out of a profound sadness that Emily hoped she would never have to know for herself. As his colleague and (she hoped) friend, she desperately wanted to help him, but she wasn't sure how. More importantly, she didn't know if he even wanted it. So she stopped herself from reaching out to touch him and remained where she was, observing him from the short distance that separated them, in all appearances the calm and professional Agent Prentiss.

"I don't always get what I want, you know."

His quiet admission surprised her, but she nodded. "I know. No one does."

"But you're right. Back then, I did think nothing could stop me. I had always been successful at gaining everything I'd considered worthwhile, so why should it ever be different, right?"

He'd never been that talkative about his personal life around her, so she decided to press a little bit, selfishly enjoying the trust that he was demonstrating. "What changed?"

He gave a small shrug. "Everything. My marriage with Haley, Jack, my job, my team, compromises, sacrifices." He threw her a look and let out a rueful chuckle, immediately followed by a confused frown. "I'm sorry Prentiss, I don't know why I'm boring you with all this."

"Hotch, you're not boring me, on the contrary, we're having a real conversation for once. That's what colleagues and friends do. Talk, share things."

"I don't normally do this."

Emily smiled teasingly. "You? Not talk? Shocking."

He pursed his lips almost shyly at her teasing and Emily's smile widened just a tiny bit at the gesture. "No, I mean, I don't normally do this with… a female… colleague. Friend."

Deciding that embarrassing the usually severe Agent Hotchner was too good an opportunity to pass, she leaned in closer and patted his arm. "Don't worry Hotch, I know I'm not your type. I promise I won't read anything into it."

His head snapped in her direction so quickly that she was startled to find herself so close and to meet his deep and intense gaze so unexpectedly. She wasn't sure what she saw in his eyes, but it was so intense in that split second that she had to pull back and go back to her comfort zone, where she felt in control. So she leaned back to her former position, returning her elbow on the counter and her gaze to the safety of her almost empty glass.

"My type? I don't have a type."

She gave him a look. "We all have a type."

"And you think you know mine?"

"Ah, excuse me, profiler here," she replied jokingly.

He turned more fully so that he was facing her and crossed his arms over his chest, clearly amused. "Alright, let's hear it. Give it your best shot."

"What, here? Right now?" She shook her head. "Nope. No way." His smile widened, but Emily barely saw it, she was too busy kicking herself for thinking that she could actually win at this game.

"Are you afraid your profile is going to be wrong?"

"No, I just wouldn't want to embarrass you in public."

Emily could have punched him as he made a point of slowly looking around the bar. As she followed his gaze she realized that they basically were the last patrons still around, so when he finally turned his challenging expression back to hers, she could only sigh in defeat. She finished her wine in one gulp and cleared her throat before turning to face him more fully.

"Okay." She cleared her throat again and met his amused (infuriating) gaze with a studying one, taking a few seconds just to observe him and gather her thoughts. He waited patiently. "Just like the rest of us, you'd want someone who shares some of your qualities. So someone smart, clever even; self-confident, who knows what she wants. Classy in her attire and behavior, but real and deep in her emotions. You'd also want her to share your interests. I'm not quite sure what those are yet, but you spend so much time at work that you don't have much free time to cultivate those interests anyway. In any case, you'd also want a woman who complements you, who you think has qualities that you wish you had. So someone who can draw you out and make you laugh; outgoing and expressive, but who can also be sweet and considerate. She shows enough vulnerability for you to feel like you can protect her." She paused and gauged his expression. "How am I doing so far?"

"What about physical appearance?"

Emily bit back a smile at her victory; that confirmed that she'd nailed it, and he looked like he hadn't expected her to. She shook her head in answer to his question. "That doesn't matter much to you. Of course she would be beautiful, but again, not in a shallow, superficial way. She would be _real_, and this quality is important to you, because in your line of work you deal with such horrors that you need something to remind you that the world is also made of goodness and sanity."

She raised a triumphant eyebrow as she finished, and he nodded with a lopsided grin, apparently impressed. "Not bad." He cleared his throat and resumed his earlier position facing the bar. While he didn't really look embarrassed or anything like that, the shift in position and the steady glare towards the bottom of his glass told her that he was trying to distance himself. She was more than a little startled by the hesitancy in his tone when he spoke. "So tell me, after enumerating all this, how can you think that you couldn't possibly be my type?"

Emily was so shocked that her first reflex was to laugh at his joke, but his serious and slightly hesitant look stopped her, and for a moment she was left speechless. She was making a perfect impression of a deer caught in headlights, she was sure of it, but come on. Seriously? She didn't really match the profile she'd just given him, did she? But the more she realized that she had in fact pretty much described herself or rather someone _like_ herself, the more mortified she felt. And what did that reveal about _her?_

"Forgive the interruption, last call?" The bartender had materialized on the other side of the bar and was staring at them with the look of a man who was more than ready to call it a night.

Emily shook her head and heard Hotch decline as well, but she didn't dare look at him so she busied herself with her purse and finding her credit card.

"Emily."

She looked up at that, a bit startled by his use of her first name. What was wrong with him tonight?

"I apologize, I didn't mean to make it awkward."

"No! No. No, I guess, you just surprised me, that's all."

"Yes, I can see that."

Emily let out a nervous chuckle. "No I mean…" Deciding that the situation could only get more awkward, she sighed and turned to face him. "You're not the flirting type, so when you say things like that I have no idea what to make of it or how to handle it, because then it means that you mean it. And that's… weird. Well maybe not weird, but...unexpected." She was rambling, and she hated it when she did that!

Noticing the bartender not so subtly looking in their direction, as if staring would make them leave faster, Emily put her credit card on the counter and watched as Hotch did the same. The evening was turning out to be so out of the realm of possibilities that she wasn't sure how to cope. Hotch flirting with her? She never would have thought… Of course she had fantasized (only occasionally), but who wouldn't? And fantasies were just that, they meant nothing. But it would be too easy to start seeing him in a new light, and that was dangerous.

_He _was dangerous.

The fact that an army of butterflies had taken up residence in her stomach at the mere thought proved just that. She was startled out of her musings when he spoke again.

"Again, I apologize. I only meant that you shouldn't sell yourself short." He was momentarily distracted by the bartender returning with their cards, but he soon went on. "I guess what I mean is that any man would be lucky to have you. And that had circumstances been different..."

Emily looked at him in wonder, the butterflies in a happy frenzy, wondering why she had always assumed that he was an emotionally shy man, rather than the frank and open man that sat before her. She should have known that he dealt with his emotions the same way he dealt with everything else: with a mix of detachment and straightforwardness. She could only think of one thing to say. "Thank you."

He gave her a curt nod as he stood and she imitated him, slipping into her jacket. With a last nod to the bartender they moved to the door and walked out. Emily felt the usual moment of awkwardness as they stepped out and she tightened her coat around herself, still trying to make sense of his last words. Had circumstances been different... She was starting to wish they were, and that was _not_ a good sign.

"Cab?" he asked.

"Yeah."

Luckily this was a part of town where taxi cabs abounded even at this late hour, so he only had to wave to one a bit further down the street for it to move their way.

"It's ironic," Emily said as she watched it approach.

"What?"

"Even though I was actually profiling you, you now know more about myself than I know about you."

She saw a tiny smile at the corner of his lips as he shrugged. "I don't know. You seem to have me figured out pretty well."

"You said you don't normally have casual conversations with female colleagues." He gave her a brief nod, waiting for her to go on. "You're not going to do it again, are you? What you feared would happen kind of happened tonight, didn't it?"

The cab stopped in front of them, and Hotch moved to open the door, then stepped aside to let her in. As she moved past him, she stopped at the door and met his gaze.

"I'm sorry," was all he said, and she nodded in understanding. As she moved to get in, he stopped her with a light touch on her arm so she looked up into his eyes again. "Emily, it's not that I don't want to. Talking with you, even for a half hour, has made me feel lighter and more alive than I've felt in a long time. But I just don't think that it would be… prudent."

He was right, of course, but she couldn't help but wonder how the fact that the mere possibility was now out there would affect their relationship. "Yes, you're probably right."

He let out a relieved sigh, as if he'd been holding his breath, and Emily smiled.

"We're okay?"

"Of course we are," she replied, and she realized that she meant it. "Good night Hotch."

She gave him one last smile as she got into the cab and he returned it as he closed the door for her. The cab driver set the car in motion and she leaned back with a long sigh.

"Long night huh?" the driver asked conversationally.

"No, it was great, actually. Just… totally unexpected."

**The End**

Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it!


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